Hate
by Farseeker
Summary: Sometimes the way you and others define hate differ, and sometimes you can believe someone to hate you when they don’t…
1. Chapter One

**Author:** Farseeker

**Genre:** Romance/Angst

**Multi-chaptered:** Planning on it being so.

**Warnings:** Slight language, slash pairing, teacher/student relationships, (future) violence, and just very weird.

**Pairing/s:** Severus/Harry. Others may sneak in later, but that is the main one and the basis of this fic.

**OOTP-Inclusive:** Yes.

**Summary:** Sometimes the way you define hate and how others define it differ, and sometimes you can believe someone to hate you when they don't….

**Author's Notes:** I nearly snapped my fingernail off typing this. -.-; I've just stopped chewing them, and now I understand why people find it so painful. It's bleeding, look. I bled for this. My word.

A tiny child's ear pressed up against the door of the cupboard that served as his room, listening to the stories of school, university and life that the woman outside was promising her son. Eyes closed tight as he imagined that life belonging to him, a tiny, flickering hope for himself that is buffeted by the winds of isolation and fear, almost extinguished…

A mental slap and Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts was sent sprawling to the floor as the youth in front of him does the mental equivalent of throwing Severus out of his home and slamming the door. Green eyes glared down, and a mouth hung slack, gasping for air but still managing to grind out one word:

"Bastard."

A sneer, and Severus was off the floor. "On the contrary. That is a part of the Potter history, not mine. Again, Potter. One, two three—"

A mind jabbed forward, searching for a weapon to use, and another rose in a grim battle, struggling to push the other back and to fight off the rising tide of memories all too quick to betray—

A desperate shove, and Snape was once again forced out, though, having been prepared this time, he only sways back slightly. Potter stumbled forward a few paces, and Severus sneered.

"It still requires too much effort from you to force me from your mind, boy. If it is that hard to rid yourself of me than you stand no chance against _him_."

No reply, as the youth straightened and readied himself again, and Severus smirked.

"Ah, the courage of foolish Gryffindors. Get out, boy, it is no use us continuing tonight."

For a moment Severus thought that the young man might refuse, but then he turned, grabbed his bag and exited the room without a word. Severus watched him go and then moved from his study through to his living room. He summoned a bottle of scotch and a small glass, filling it to the halfway point before taking a small sip.

"So that is the new Potter, then, is it?"

Seventh year, and although the other teachers had commented on how well Harry was handling the pressure, Severus could see the truth. The school year had only just started and yet it was clear that there had been a dramatic change in the boy. 

No longer a boy, Severus had to remind himself, and it was true. Harry had left the school last year a child – you needed only glance at his eyes to see that he was screaming inwardly at the unfairness of it all. Now when you glanced at his eyes – at least when he was around friends – you would most likely see happiness and a good-natured humour that made Severus' teeth grate. 

It was only if you bothered to look deeper that you saw the grim determination and a bitter acceptance that, when on the rare occasion that it was shown, looked too old on a face such as his.

Severus snorted and flicked his wand at the fireplace, lighting a blaze large enough to warm but small enough to escape being cosy, and settled on one of the chairs around the heart, staring into the flames for a moment before downing the rest of his drink.

"So, then…this looks, perhaps, to be an interesting year…"

* * * 

A spell struck the youth in the middle of the chest, making him gasp and begin to bleed rapidly from under the fingernails. A sharp word and a brushing-aside movement and the blood stopped.

"You didn't even try to avoid that one, Potter! I know you're pandered to in your Defence classes but I would at least expect some basic instinct for self preservation!"

A curse was all the reply Severus got, and he barely managed to avoid it, heat crackling through the air and warming his robes suddenly as the spell rushed past. Severus ignored it though and spun, knowing the spell was cast with the purpose of missing –

A wand pressed gently under his chin, and looked down into green eyes gone dark from the rush of magic and adrenalin, pupils so large the irises seemed to have almost disappeared. There was a moment of absolute stillness and then the wand was lowered.

"That was somewhat better, Mr Potter, although nowhere near the level you're going to need if you want to even scratch the Dark Lord. That is all for today, get out."

Severus watched Potter leave, noting the slight slump of his shoulders and the drooping eyes. There was a brief moment in which Snape considered offering the young man a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, but he pushed the thought aside. If Potter still could not rid himself of Voldemort-filled dreams then he deserved the obvious lack of sleep. It was not, after all, a lack of effort on Severus' part.

* * *

Severus placed a bottle on the desk in front of him, watched by Harry with a clear lack of understanding.

"This, Mr Potter, is Dreamless Sleep. I trust you would know what it does, considering your impressive record with the Hospital Wing."

A nod, although there is still a lack of comprehension as to what it had to do with his training.

"Today we will combine the two subjects that you have been studying under me. We will duel using both Occlumency and normal spells to defend. We will attack with no holds barred, Mr Potter, and if you win, this bottle," Severus tapped the cork at the top and then the side of the bottle with his wand, the movements being followed by Harry's eyes all the while, "will be yours."

Harry's eyes widened at this and then narrowed as he nodded his agreement. Severus smirked and lifted his wand; Harry did the same.

"Ready, Mr Potter?"  
  


Another nod, the young man's eyes never leaving Snape's face.

"Alright then, on my count. One, two, three-"

"Incarcerous!"

Severus dodged the ropes that came flying out of Harry's wand, and shot back his own attack.

"Legilimens!"

Harry buckled for a moment under the pressure on his mind before shoving Snape away. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Severus sidestepped the attack easily. "Impedimenta!"

Harry was knocked to the ground by the attack but flipped himself back onto his feet. There was a second's pause and then Harry was running towards Severus, ducking lower to avoid the hexes Snape threw at him until he was brought to a stop by a Tarantallegra curse, his feet moving feverishly beneath him for a few moments before he removed the spell. 

By that time Severus had moved away, and Harry spun to face him before launching another attack.

The duel continued for over an hour, curses and spells flying through the air. Both men were breathing heavily; furniture and books litter the floor of the room. Harry was tiring, however, his movements becoming easier to read as his response to attacks slowed.

"Stupefy!"

Harry barely managed to avoid the attack, turning out of the way just in time. 

"Legilimens!"

There was a moment of surprise on Severus' part at the fact that Harry had used the spell at all, although it was as easy to brush away as a stray sheet of parchment.

"Stupefy!"

Severus turned away from the spell only to run into another, and as he fell he saw two more shoot by just to the side of him, and Potter's face, an expression of grim concentration at maintaining all the spells—

"…ervate."

Snape opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. Harry, who had been kneeling beside him, stood and offered a hand to him. After a moment Severus took it, allowing Harry to help him to his feet.

"Well, Mr Potter, that was quite an interesting choice of action. You win this time, but remember that when the final battle comes there will most likely be Death Eaters about and that kind of tactic will not do you any good."  
  
Severus realised that Potter was staring at him, his eyes the same as the last time they had duelled, and he was standing close. Snape lifted an eyebrow at him, wondering if Harry realised their proximity. Irritation flashed in the young man's eyes, and a kind of recklessness that reminded Severus of how Harry's eyes had once been, when he was in first and second year, and then he was moving forward, even closer…

Severus blinked. There were dry, slightly cracked lips pressed against his, and a hand hovering over his shoulder, close enough for him to feel the slight pressure in the way that the material of his robes shifted but not enough to feel it on his arm. 

There was a moment in which Severus wished to grab the young man and hold him there whether he wished to stay or not, and another as he reminded himself that he was not a monster, and allowed Harry a second to pull back, stammering apologies and excuses and flee, dignity torn but safe in the knowledge that it had been nothing, meant nothing, was just a mistake.

The second stretched, drew out and then was gone, and Severus lifted a hand to touch Harry's cheek gently, pulling him closer and returning the kiss. After a second Harry pulled back, gasping for breath and obviously surprised at what had just happened, although whether at Severus' actions or his own it was impossible to tell. After a brief moment in which Severus was sure he'd run, Harry shook his head and kissed him again, standing on tiptoe to reach his lips and then overbalancing, falling forward so that Severus had to either catch him or let him fall so Severus grabbed at him, supporting his weight and leaning down to take control of the kiss. Harry's hands reached out and grabbed at his robes, clinging to Severus. They stood there for a moment, seemingly frozen in time and then Harry pulled back, stumbling away, grabbing his bag and running toward the door. It was only when he was in the doorway that Severus found his voice, and the words.

"Mr Potter!"

Harry flinched and turned to look back at Severus. 

"I have no qualms with your leaving boy—after all, we both know who initiated what just happened." A smirk and Harry's eyes skittered away to look out at the hall and then back, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "However, I will not tolerate you leaving without an explanation as to why you are leaving _now_."

Harry swayed in the doorway, unsure of whether to run to the safety of his room or answer the question, but there had been a promise of retribution if the truth was not given behind the delicately phrased question.

"You hate me."

An eyebrow rose, and a response that, in Severus' mind, reveals nothing, but in Harry's reveals everything.

"And…?"

Harry licked his lips again, glancing once more to the relative safety of the hall.

"You hate me, and I don't hate you."

Then he was gone, footsteps echoing up the hall and away from Severus, who lifted fingers to his lips, unusually warm in the cold of the dungeons. He turned to face the only piece of furniture in the room that had not been disturbed by their duel.

On the table in the centre of the room there was a bottle of Dreamless Sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author:** Farseeker

**Genre: **Romance/Angst

**Multi-chaptered:** Well it is now, isn't it?

**Warnings:** Possible slight language, slash pairing, student/teacher relationship, (future) violence, disturbing imagery, possible OOC.

**Pairing/s:** Severus/Harry. Others may occur, but this is the main one and the others won't be planned.

**OOTP-Inclusive:** Yeah.

**Summary:** Sometimes the way you define hate and how others define it differ, and sometimes you can believe someone to hate you when they don't…

**Author's Notes:** Dude, I am so cool. Over about four hours on Sunday I wrote both this chapter and the new one for 'Scream'. Both are unedited. I so rock. Just on a side note, it is fourteen days almost exactly until I will be seeing David Bowie performing live in concert, oh yeah. *gloatgloat*

* * *

Severus had his owl deliver the bottle to Harry the next morning. He had, after all, promised the potion as the prize and the boy had won fair and square.

The next week was completely uneventful, and it had Severus more on edge than he would have been if disaster had followed disaster. No calls to Death Eater meetings, no visits with Albus where he would be served tea with lemon and three sugars because the Headmaster refused to believe that he truly preferred his tea black. The visits would end, inevitably, with Albus asking a favour of Severus and him agreeing because no matter how much the requests grates against him, Albus had absolute faith that he would. Even Longbottom refrained from blowing up his cauldron. To Neville's horror he had discovered that he needed to pass in Advanced Potions to be able to train as a healer. To Severus' horror, the boy had actually taken the class.

It didn't surprise him, then, when he ran into Longbottom during his last check of the castle halls. It didn't even surprise him when instead of quailing in fear Longbottom had grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him towards the Gryffindor Tower, babbling something about Harry and screaming, and not being able to wake him.

He was led through the portrait entrance and up to the seventh year boys' dorm. They were standing around one of the beds, the curtains pulled aside. They looked confused and scared, and Severus understood why.

Harry lay on the bed, eyes clenched shut and hands wrapped in the bed sheets, clutching tightly. He was curled on his side, and his pillow was pressed against his face by his arms. Even through it you could hear his screams, barely muffled by the pillow.

"He won't wake up," Weasley said, freckles standing out on his pale face. "He just curled up tighter when we tried."

"Move aside," Severus snapped. "And go and find Professor McGonagall. She should know about this, being your head of house."

One of the boys scuttled off, casting a quick, frightened glance back at the boy on the bed.

Severus moved closer to Harry, and tugged the pillow away from him. He watched, more than a little disturbed, as a bruise blossomed on the boy's cheek before fading away, leaving the pale skin unmarred. A cut slit open on one of Harry's hands, apparently opened with an invisible razor, and then sealed itself up again, almost like a zip. It happened so quickly there wasn't even time for more than a thin line of blood to escape. 

Severus tried shaking the young man first, but nothing happened apart from Harry flinching away. Next he summoned a pitcher of water – icy-cold, he noted with a kind of twisted satisfaction – and dumped the lot over Harry. No change at all. Quickly running out of patience Severus hauled the boy up by the collar of his pyjamas – they were much too big for him, he observed – and slapped him. There were sounds of shock and outrage from the children behind him, but Severus was concentrating on Harry. His screams had cut off, been swallowed down. He hiccuped once and then his eyes opened, blearily confused. Satisfied, Severus released him. Harry slid back onto the bed, and Severus cast a quick drying charm over him and the sheets. Harry blinked and his teeth started to chatter.

"Why is it so cold?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. The water he had tipped over Harry had been chilled, true, but Harry certainly shouldn't have been reacting the way he was, especially after the drying charm. Severus studied Harry for a moment before realising that he was now flushed and breathing quickly; beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead. Severus put a hand against Harry's head, barely having to touch him to realise that he was running a high fever.

"Trust you, Potter. Got to make a drama out of everything, don't we? I'm taking him somewhere cooler, he's running a fever."

The last part was directed at the remaining boys. Without waiting for a response he gathered Harry up in his arms. As he turned to leave, he noticed something that made him pause.

Harry had placed his trunk at the end of his bed and had obviously been using it as a nightstand of sorts. There were picture frames on it, his glasses and a bottle – a very familiar bottle that still contained all the potion that had been in it when Severus had last seen it.

"Hand me that," He snapped, an icy, sick feeling inside of him. One of the boys scrambled to grab it and passed it to Severus who grabbed the neck of it and used his wrist to support Harry before stalking out of the room.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a small crowd of girls who had clearly been woken by the commotion. One of the girls followed him across the common room. He couldn't see her but suspected that it was Hermione Granger.

"Tell your head of house I've taken him to the West Tower courtyard," He said, not bothering to check if she had heard him. The Fat Lady swung open without waiting for a password and Severus strode down the hall, Harry lying limp in his arms The boy didn't seem aware of what was happening – he clung to Severus without question, turning himself in towards Severus' heat.

"Warm."

"Warmth is not good for you, boy," Severus told him shortly. Harry looked up at him, blinking green eyes that seemed a lot larger without the glasses to frame them in confusion.

"You aren't good for me?"  
  
Severus ignored the question and continued on his path, a part of him finding the time to wonder at how hurt Harry had sounded when he had asked the question.

* * *

The courtyard Severus had taken Harry to was not a place often visited by students or teachers. It was fully open to the wind, and featured only a couple of weather-beaten benches and a few ghostly-looking trees. It wasn't really even a courtyard – a door about half way up the tower led out to it from the stairs, and as far as anyone knew there were no rooms beneath it. Severus placed Harry on one of the benches and settled himself on one opposite. Within a few minutes the flush had faded from Harry's cheeks, and he was looking about, taking in his surroundings.

"Why haven't you used it?"  
Harry flinched at the blunt, more-than-a-little pissed off tone.

"I didn't want to."

"I didn't poison it. Dumbledore would skin me alive for harming his golden boy," Severus sounded disgusted, although whether with himself or Harry was not clear.

"That's not why."

"Well you must be pretty stupid then boy, to want to go through what just happened. I saw the bruises and the cuts—"

"It's the first thing I've ever won."

Silence followed the statement. Severus was surprised, to say the least. To not take a potion for a reason as childish as that was beyond comprehension.

"As much as it pains me to say it, Potter, your Quidditch team has a long-standing winning streak over the Slytherin team largely because of you."

"You said it was a team yourself, Sir. Teams work together and win together. It is the Gryffindor team that wins the Quidditch cup, not I."

"Then the Triwizard Tournament."

"Was won by Cedric and I together. It's not really something I'd like to remember anyway."

"Surely some kind of small award when you were still going to muggle school?"

There was no response this time, just a strange smile.

"Even if that is so, Potter, it is ridiculous not to use it. You can always keep the bottle."

"The bottle wasn't the prize though; the potion was. It is something that I find to be important to me, even if the person who gave it to me hates me."

"I don't hate you."  
  
Silence again, although this time it was the kind that said that Harry didn't believe him but couldn't be bothered wasting the time in pressing the matter. That quiet certainty annoyed Severus. Who did the boy think he was, to be so sure of Severus' own feelings?

In the silence the courtyard door swung open, and McGonagall hurried out, a tired and panicky look on her face; fully dressed in her robes but still with slippers on her feet.

"Mr Potter!"  
She walked straight past Severus to Harry, asking him if he was okay. Harry assured her he was but she didn't seem to believe him, and kept asking him the same question. Severus watched them for a moment before standing and stepping back into the shadows, leaving the courtyard and making his way back down to his rooms.

The fire he had left burning when he had started his rounds had died away to nothing more than a few embers, but the room was still warm so Severus didn't bother lighting another one. When the cold of his bedroom woke him in the early morning he dispatched another bottle with his owl, along with a sheet of parchment.

When Harry awoke he found an owl perched on the corner post of his bed bearing a bottle, an explanation of what the potion did and precise instructions, all in Severus Snape's careful script.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A month passed, and neither of the two incidents between Severus and Harry were discussed by them. When they trained barely anything was said, and the potions class continued with a startlingly boring monotony. Harry had never thought that he would miss the snide remarks and intimidation, however now that there was nothing but a cold indifference he did.

Voldemort had begun attacking more openly – usually small muggle towns or villages that were home to a handful of wizards or the parents of muggle-borns. The Order of the Phoenix had originally tried to fight off Voldemort but had lost so many people that they had now changed tactics, focusing on warning or removing people from areas to be attacked (largely through Severus' efforts as a spy and Harry's dreams) and helping the few survivors Voldemort left to tell the tale. 

There was an air of suppressed fear at Hogwarts, created by the growing trend of owls bearing black envelopes which would tell students in a sympathetically detached voice that their mother, father, sister, brother was dead and they were now wards of the country.

The teachers, sensing the growing fear within the student population, tried to balance it in different ways. Some took the view that more work would give the students less time to think about current events and as a result gave so much homework that, if circumstances were normal, would never have been able to be completed. Others decided that giving the students time to discuss and come to terms with what was happening was the best way to handle the situation and the levels of homework from these classes dropped to nearly nothing. There were only two teachers at Hogwarts that didn't follow either of these ideals and kept their teaching methods exactly the same – Professor Binns who, the students agreed, was completely oblivious to the fact that Voldemort was back at all – and Professor Snape.

For some students who, luckily, had mainly the sort of teachers that had cut back on homework the workload was lighter and gave them a lot more time for games of exploding snap. For the majority of students, however, they were getting the same amount of homework as usual but in the wrong areas or had so much it appeared that some were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

The situation came to a head one day in Advanced Potions class. A Slytherin girl that the Gryffindors could recognise by face but not by name failed to had in her potions homework. Severus had, surprisingly, not snapped at her or immediately assigned a detention but simply raised an eyebrow and asked her if there was a reason she hadn't completed it. The girl explained that she had been awake until three o'clock in the morning completing her Transfiguration and Arithmancy homework and had fallen asleep in the middle of her History of Magic homework before she could start her potions study. She then hiccuped once and burst into tears. Snape had studied her for a moment and then told her to go and get a calming potion from Madam Pomfrey. The lesson continued as if nothing had happened, but Harry could see that Severus was ready to blow.

Ten minutes into lunch Snape strode into the Great Hall, the girl from the potions class trailing behind him.

"Albus, I need to speak with you in private."

The Headmaster blinked at the Potions Master in surprise, teacup halfway to his mouth.

"Surely whatever you have to say can wait until lunch is over, Professor Snape?"

"No it can't, Headmaster. This problem should be dealt with as soon as possible, for the sake of our students."

Harry watched Dumbledore relax slightly and realised that he had thought Severus had been talking about a problem with Voldemort until he had mentioned the students.

"Well then, Professor, if it concerns the students I'm sure that whatever you need to say can be said here."

Harry watched with a mixture of mild amusement and apprehension as the Professor drew in a deep breath and a muscle began to twitch near his left temple.

"This year, Professor, Dumbledore, I am taking not the seven classes every other teacher in this school has, but ten as you feel smaller classes would be beneficial in potions. I am currently developing several potions at your request, as well as keeping the Hospital Wing adequately stocked of healing and calming potions which is quite a challenge really when you consider our current situation. On top of this I'm tutoring two dozen students, the majority of which because you believe they have a chance at passing if they have one-on-one sessions, and I do _not_ need more students to tutor because the rest of your staff is either assigning too much homework or not enough! Get your faculty under control, Albus, or you may have to find yourself a new Potions teacher."

The last sentence was spat out before Severus turned and stalked out of the hall. There was silence for a moment and then a little shocked laughter from the students.

"Well, I believe that I shall have to call a staff meeting tonight. However, I do believe that there is only thirty minute until the next period, so I suggest we all eat up," Dumbledore said, eyes shining with an obvious mirth at Snape's chagrin.

* * *

"I'm not sure what was more shocking – Snape having a go at Dumbledore so publicly, or the fact that he was concerned about us in a roundabout 'it's really all about me' way," Ron remarked as he helped himself to a bun.

"Well," Hermione said, "whatever it was I'm relieved. The situation was getting rather ridiculous. I suppose Snape needed to find some way to get rid of some of his tension – he has seemed to be restraining himself around Harry lately, so he's probably been rather stressed."

Ron snorted. "I suppose it's better than Snape 'relieving tension' in other ways."

Harry, who had been taking a drink as Ron spoke, choked and began coughing, doubled over with his eyes wide.

"Ewww, Ron!" Hermione laughed as she patted Harry on the back. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Images," Harry offered between coughs.

Ron considered that for a moment before his eyes crossed and he turned slightly green. "Bloody hell, mate, I'm sorry."

Hermione mock-glared at Ron. "So you should be. Harry'll probably be scarred for life because of you."

Neither noticed the small blush colouring Harry's cheeks.

* * *

The Christmas holidays were approaching and a record number of students had put their names down to stay over the holidays. The teachers had long since returned to their normal amounts of homework, and the feeling of fear, whilst not completely gone, had abated somewhat. By now students were used to seeing the letters come in and were ready with hugs and words of comfort for those who received them.

Snow covered the Quidditch pitch and Ron and Hermione had become used to finding Harry with cheeks red from the wind, hair messier than usual flecked with white and lips blue from the cold. At first they had been concerned over the amount of time he spent out in the cold but he had simply shrugged and said that he didn't feel it. They had accepted his response without much question – after all, he hadn't gotten sick yet – and he had been free to continue his flying without intrusion. Harry had grown used to isolation over the past few years and had come to treasure his time alone.

Christmas day dawned crisp and clear, the sun shining brightly through its heat failed to really reach the earth. Breakfast was a cheerful affair for the students who had stayed behind until the owls arrived.

It has started with just one owl bearing a black envelope, not that unusual an occurrence by now. Another, however, joined it and another until there was a flock of around thirty birds bearing down on the students. They delivered their messages in the deathly silence that had covered the hall, and then left.

The shocked quiet was broken by the scream of a first year. The child had not even bothered to open the envelope and was clutching it to their chest, rocking back and forward as they wailed. Another voice was soon added to the sound, and it grew quickly into a horrible mish-mash of denial, mourning and the detached sound of the messages.

"We are sorry to inform…"

"…father and brother both killed…"

"…probably painless…"  
"…during an attack on Diagon Alley and other wizarding towns…"

"…details of their deaths are yet to be disclosed…"

Professor Dumbledore was calling for calm but for once his voice became lost in the sounds of fear rising from the students. Harry, unsure of how to help the situation, fled the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry had retreated to the West Tower Courtyard, and was curled up on one of the benches, staring off and out into space when Severus found him as the day neared it's end. He had a bottle resting beside him, one that Severus recognised as the one containing the second potion he had sent Harry. It was empty.

"There wasn't even enough left for the recommended dosage, so you don't have to worry," Harry said quietly. Severus ignored him and sat down on the other bench across from Harry.

"It's strange. I know that some part of me is feeling because I can feel me feeling it, but I'm not really _feeling_ what it is I'm feeling. It's there, but I'm not really connected to it. I just kind of am aware that it's happening."

"The potion, in its correct dosage, is designed to produce a feeling of true and complete apathy for a period of nine hours. What you are experiencing is to be expected when the dosage taken is smaller than required."

" I didn't know what to do," Harry admitted, resting his chin on his knees. "When Cedric died I was sort of told 'you did your best' and patted on the back a bit then left to deal on my own over the holidays. When Sirius died I was so angry, and everyone said 'it wasn't your fault' and then sent me back to the muggles to handle it on my own again. I don't understand how to help them because there was no one to help me, and when there was I didn't want it."

"That's okay. The best thing you can do is be sympathetic but not pitying, and act normally around them."  
  


"Do you know what scares me the most? They're all relying on me to beat him, but I'm going to fail and then they'll all be so surprised that I lost when it's really clear who will win in the first place. He has much more experience and power, and who knows how many supporters. I'm just a teenager who had had a good run of luck but that'll end eventually, and then what? They all think I'm so wonderful for 'defeating' him before but I can't even remember how I did it, and I didn't even do it properly then."  
  
Severus was surprised at Harry's statement, to say the least – he knew that Harry would have doubted his ability to beat Voldemort more than once, it was only natural, but he hadn't expected such frank acceptance of what Harry obviously viewed as a fact.

"You give them hope," he offered eventually.

Harry looked at him, eyes weary and jaded. "Take away hope and you are left with despair. It would be better to never experience that hope in the first place, because there would never be that awareness that it's gone."  
  


"A life without hope – nothing to continue for – is not a life at all."

Harry shrugged and tightened his arms around himself.

"I have never," Snape said carefully, "been a firm believer in the literal truths of prophecies. In fact the few I have come across have been a lot more figurative than literal, and Sybill has always been one for flowery turns of phrases."  
  


"What are you saying?" Harry asked, curious despite himself.

"While Dumbledore and the others believe you have to kill the Dark Lord, I am of the opinion that you will simply provide the means, not the act itself. Furthermore, even if you do take the prophecy in it's literal sense that does not mean there will be a battle between you and him and all. Someone else – Dumbledore, for example – may severely incapacitate him in which case it may be as simple as a knife across the throat for you."

Harry laughed. "You're trying to provide me with the same hope I give them."  
  


"Did it work?"

"Perhaps a little, but I'll question your theory soon enough and then I'll be back where I started."

"If it helps, why bother questioning it until necessary?"

Harry was quiet for a moment. "What will happen now? With the Order do anything in response?"

"This has not yet been told to the other students, so I am trusting you to use some discretion in this matter."

Harry nodded and shifted to face Severus.

"As of the end of this week, Hogwarts will close as a school."

Harry paled. "I'll have to go back to the Dursley's?"

Severus shook his head. "Your training is too important. Hogwarts will become a refuge for those in danger. Classes will be discontinued, but the students are welcome to stay for voluntary lessons."

"Oh. I see."

"I have noticed that in the past months you have been avoiding your friends as much as possible without offending them. May I ask why?"

"Because they don't really understand me as I am now. I love them, I really do, but I've come to hate it when they ask me what is wrong. I can tell them, and maybe they understand why I'm upset, but they won't just let me deal. They're always there telling me to be happy; to smile and I can't. I can't just change how I'm feeling to make them happy, and I hate that they expect me to. They won't give me the time to be angry or sad or frustrated, and I can't stand it anymore."

"And yet you speak to me."

"You don't force me to be something I'm not. You don't tell me I shouldn't be feeling like this, you just help me understand why it is that I am."  
  
There was something in Harry's face that made Severus wary; something hidden behind the shutters of his eyes and Severus found himself wondering what it was he would find if those shutters ever opened. For some reason his memory flicked back to the look on Harry's face and, more importantly, in his eyes in the seconds before he had kissed him. Then Harry looked down again, and the moment was lost. Severus was not sure whether he should regret the fact or be glad of it.

"I feel," Harry said in a low voice, "like I might turn into smoke one day and just kind of drift away."  
  


"Like a boat that's slipped it's moorings?"

Harry nodded. "Like I have no anchor," he whispered.

"Why?"

Harry licked his lips. "When he tried to kill me the first time, when he got my parents, he tied himself to me to keep himself alive. He deepened that tie during the Triwizard tournament, _but I have never tied myself to him_. I hold nothing of his that binds me to him, only the scar and the echo of his powers that binds him to me. He, however, owes his body – his continued existence – to me. He shares my blood but I do not share his." Harry glanced up again, and the darkness in his eyes terrified Severus. "Sometimes I wonder….if he needed me to survive, does he still need me? If that is true, than not even the need to defeat him ties me down. If it is too much, if I cannot beat him by fighting him, I could always beat him by helping him."

"You haven't –"

"No, I haven't." Voice still low, and a hand that gripped so tightly around his wrist that the knuckles were turning white. "The option is still there, though, and I cannot forget about it. It would save so many people, so many lives…and what do I have to lost but a life that seems so empty?"

"You need something to hold onto then."  
  
Harry smiled a little sadly. "There is nothing –"

"I will be your anchor."

Harry gaped for a moment, and then scowled. "I will not accept your pity, Snape. You could gain nothing from it."

The idea had already formed in Severus' head, however, and he continued speaking as if Harry hadn't said anything. "It would mean there would be someone watching and guarding you a lot more often with a feasible excuse, and Voldemort would be happy because I would have 'gotten closer' to you. I would be able to spend more time training you without an excuse apart from concern, and the Dark Lord would believe I was undermining your skills as a duellist. No one would be able to comment on the attachment since I would no longer me your teacher as the school would technically be closed. It's almost flawless."

"So you'll just put up with me then? You'd have to give your whole life and even your body to carry out the idea – people would never believe we were together unless there was some sort of a physical display of your 'feelings'."

Severus waved a hand in dismissal. "They would be expecting nothing more than a few kisses, some hand-holding and hugging. I have given a lot more in my service as a spy."

Harry stared at him, face pale, and Severus realised what he had practically admitted to. "You will not tell Dumbledore I said that. If he were to even suspect such a thing he would not let me return to them, and the information I provide him is far too valuable to be stopped for something so small."

Harry shook his head, visibly upset, and Severus guessed that the potion had worn off. "I can't let you make such a sacrifice."

"There was nothing about you _letting_ me mentioned at all, Mr Potter," Severus said. "However, it is late and after today's events you should be sleeping. We will continue this tomorrow."

Severus walked with Harry to the main hallway of the floor, where they parted company. As Harry walked away, Severus felt the need to say one thing more.

"Oh, and Mr Potter?"

Harry half-turned, his head twisted back to look over his shoulder.

"I do not believe that I ever referred to what we discussed as a sacrifice. Perhaps that would be because I do not regard it as such."

With that and a smirk Severus returned to his dungeon rooms, surprised but not displeased with the night's events.


	4. Chapter Four

**Author:** Farseeker.

**Genre:** Romance/Angst.

**Multi-chaptered:** Duh.

**Warnings:** Language, slash, student/teacher, (future) violence, OOC.

**OOTP-Inclusive:** Yes.

**Summary:** Sometimes the way you define hate and how others define it differ, and sometimes you can believe someone to hate you when they don't…

**A/N: **This chapter kind of pisses me off, and probably will end up being revised on pretty heavily. I needed to get something up, though, so here it is. I know it was a shitty place to leave it, but the conversation between Snape and Albus has to be pretty much on the mark, and the convo between HP, RW and HG was strange enough. Just for the record, HP is not mine.

The next morning at breakfast the Headmaster rose from his seat, calling for quiet. He spoke into the silence, voice grave.

"It is with great regret that I must inform you that, due to the attack on Diagon Alley yesterday, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be closed."

There was a great outcry from the students, one of denial and shock. Dumbledore continued to speak over the noise.

"Hogwarts will, instead, be opening its' doors to the general public as a haven. For those of you who are muggle-born it is recommended that you talk to your families about their coming here as soon as possible. Formal classes will cease to be held, but voluntary lessons for some subjects may be continued."

There was a shocked silence.

"Today the Hogwarts Professors will be converting the majority of classrooms into sleeping areas. You are welcome to write to your parents to determine whether they wish you to stay here, although letters have already been sent informing them of the circumstances. All we ask for today is that you all stay out of trouble while we work on the classrooms. Professor McGonagall will be supervising you for today."

When Dumbledore had finished speaking all the teachers except McGonagall rose from their seats and left the Great Hall. There was some subdued whispering in the hall but most people were so busy grieving and helping others through their grief that they simply accepted what they had been told.

Harry spent the day down by the lake with Hermione and Ron. They had been surprised at the announcement but had already decided it was a good thing to do. Hermione couldn't wait to show her parents the school. Ron had been puzzled as to how they'd see the castle at all due to the wards, but Hermione had brushed his concerns off, telling him that there were spells that could be used on muggles to counter the wards, and Dumbledore had obviously planned to use one of them. Neither commented on Harry's lack of reaction, and for that he was glad.

That night at dinner Harry found a folded piece of parchment on his plate. He picked it up and slid it into his sleeve. No one noticed, and the meal continued normally.

When the trio left the Great Hall Harry excused himself, saying that he needed to go to the toilet. He locked himself into one of the stalls and pulled the note out of his sleeve.

_We will meet tonight at the West Tower Courtyard tonight directly after dinner._

_ S._

Harry folded the parchment and stood, hesitating a moment before leaving the bathroom and heading towards the West Tower.

Harry found Severus staring out off the into the distance, his robes pulled tightly around him against the cold.

"You're late."

"I couldn't just read the note at the table, you know."

"How do you want to go about this?" Severus asked after an awkward pause. "Do you want to tell your friends before we 'go public'?

"Wha…? Hey, I haven't even said that I was going to –"

"No, but you will."

Harry gaped.

Severus turned around to regard Harry. His eyes seemed somehow distant, and Harry shivered at the frankness in his voice.

"You need something to hold you together, Harry, and you aren't going to find it in your friends or the people around you. They've decided that you'll simply be able to deal with this on your own like you have before, and you know as well as I that this time it simply won't work."

"I won't let –"

"This is no self-sacrifice, Mr Potter." Harry jerked at the sudden coldness in Snape's voice and the return to the use of his last name. "I, like everyone else who has any sense in this world, want him – _Voldemort_ – gone." The name was stressed, and Harry wondered at how much it had cost him to say it. "More so than most, in fact. Whether you like it or not, Potter, you will have a hand in that. If you are truly of the opinion that there isn't even the faintest chance that you can fulfil the prophecy than chances are that you won't, and _that's not good for me_.

His voice softened, and he stepped closer to Harry. "You are the one who is going to have to make the big sacrifices in the end, Harry, and if there is anything I can do to help make it less of a burden, anything at all, I will do it. I have done far worse, after all."

By this time Severus was standing right in front of Harry and he lifted a hand to touch the man's cheek. Harry's eyes flicked to Snape's hand and back again. Severus smirked and his tone turned slightly teasing.

"In any account, I'd get to spend time with a handsome young man. I hardly see how that can be regarded as a sacrifice."

As colour spread across Harry's cheeks Severus leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's, lingering for barely a moment before pulling back.

"Okay?"

"…Okay…"

Severus lifted an eyebrow at Harry's sudden compliance but did not comment on it.

"But I—I want Hermione and Ron to know before anyone else." Harry looked down and bit his lip. "They deserve to know."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I can imagine they'll be pretty upset – Ron might try to hex you or something." His voice was light, but it trembled slightly. "This is something I need to do alone."

Severus nodded. "Very well then, I will see you tomorrow. Good night."

As Snape moved past Harry to the door he patted the young man on the shoulder. Harry jumped a little at the contact.

"Professor?"

"We are _dating_ now, Harry. If you don't want people thinking our relationship is less healthy than they already will, I would suggest you get used to using my name."

"T-thank you…"

Severus had already left the courtyard by the time Harry had spoken, and barely head him at all. He pretended that he hadn't and continued back to his rooms, finding that for some reason he was more than a little apprehensive for Harry's sake.

Harry found Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor Common Room playing a game of chess – the muggle kind. Hermione refused to play with game pieces that pulled each other apart, and Harry had come to agree with her. As far as he was concerned there would be enough violence in their world soon enough without them needing to emulate it in a game.

"That, Harry, was possibly the longest trip to the toilets every recorded. Perhaps you should consider a trip to the Hospital Wing," Ron laughed at him, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Once you finish your game, do you mind if we find somewhere private to talk? It's kind of important."

Hermione looked worried. "We can always go now if you want, Harry. After all, if it is important…"

"No, it's fine Hermione. It's shouldn't take that long to finish the game anyway, judging from the look on Ron's face."

Harry was right. The game was over in five turns, and the trio decided to visit the Room of requirement It took the form of a small stone-walled room, featuring three chairs and a small fire that, despite it's size, put up a good fight against the chill in the room.

"So, what was it that you wanted to tell us?" Ron asked, making himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

"I've kind of…recently become involved with someone," Harry said. '_Very recently,'_ he added in his head.

Ron and Hermione stared at him for a moment before Ron, grinning widely, leaned forward and slapped Harry on the back.

"That's brilliant, Harry! Who is she?"

"Um…it's a he, actually.' Harry held his breath.

The grin on Ron's face seemed to freeze, and for a moment he looked almost like a wax statue. Hermione, however, looked like a light had come on inside her head.

"Er…okay, not what I was expecting, but anyway…so who is he, then?"

Harry sucked in a breath. "You have to promise me that you won't freak out – a lot, anyway. No screaming or yelling, and no hunting him down and threatening bodily harm." Harry paused for a moment, and then added 'or causing it' to the list.

Hermione, who had been quiet so far (Harry had been praying that was a good thing) scrunched up her nose. "It's not…Malfoy…is it?"

"What? No!"

Reassured by the surprise and small amount of disgust in Harry's voice, Ron smiled again. "That's okay then. I think I could handle anyone but him."

"Promise me." Ron blinked at the insistence but promised anyway. After a moment Hermione agreed to abide by Harry's terms as well.

Harry breathed in. "It's–" and then stopped. He had almost started with 'Professor' and he agreed with Snape in that it wouldn't go down too well at all – especially with Ron.

"It's…?" Hermione prompted, face curious.

"It's Severus." Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expressions on Hermione and Ron.

"Sever—you mean _Snape_?"

Harry nodded, and opened his eyes. Ron's face held a mixture of shock, denial and disgust, and Hermione's eyes were beginning to look suspiciously watery.

"But Harry, it's _Snape_. We hate him, remember? He's like a bat, swooping around in those robes of his. His nose takes up half his face; you could hang him upside down and use his hair to grease a frying pan if you really wanted! It's _Snape_!"

Harry flinched and sighed. "I knew this would happen…"

Ron gaped. "You knew—how could you _not_ know this is how we'd react? It's _Snape_!"

Harry let his face become cool. "I really don't think you understand, Ron. Has it ever crossed your mind – _ever_ – that I have to face down possibly the most powerful wizard in existence? A wizard with supporters willing to die for him, and with so many years of experience over me it isn't funny? And that I will probably die?"

Ron's face held a look of such surprise that Harry genuinely believed he had never even considered the possibility of Harry dying, but Hermione's look of guilt told him that she had.

"It's nothing to feel guilty about, whether you have or haven't thought of it." Harry's voice was quiet. "You need to understand, though – I'm currently living on a rather limited amount of time, at least in my mind, and that does not lend itself to patience, nor caring what people will think of me. Right now I _need_ this, and I will not allow anyone, be it the press _or_ my friends, to belittle it. _I need this_."

Hermione drew in a shaky breath. "I'm disappointed in you, Harry." The tears that had been hiding just behind her lids began to fall. "How could you hide this from us? We had no idea you were even gay! I know that I've told you about people I'm interested in, and what I find attractive, and I'm quite sure Ron has as well. And you—you…do you really have so little faith in us?"

Hermione's voice had become shrill and loud, but by the end of her spiel it had died down to almost nothing. She hiccuped.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione, I really am. I just—I don't know." Harry sighed and finally took a seat, sprawling into one of the chairs. "I suppose I wasn't sure how you would react to me being gay in the first place – I know my Uncle and the others would be less than supportive and it's never mentioned in the wizarding world so I just kept quiet. And nothing was going to happen anyway, so what did it matter? It was easier not to say anything. I truly didn't mean to hurt you – either of you."

Hermione sniffled, and then nodded. "Okay, I can understand that. But Harry, you have to promise not to withhold anything in the future."

Harry bit his lip. "I don't think I can, Hermione." He hurried to explain at her hurt look. "I like having my secrets, especially now that so many people are watching me, and I don't think I can honestly just give that up. I'll try to let you know more of what is happening with me though, I can promise you that."

Hermione smiled weakly and nodded again. "Okay, Harry. Just don't keep us in the dark about anything major."

"So…this is okay then? With both of you?"

"It's fine with me, Harry, if it's what you want."

Ron, who had been listening carefully to the exchange between Hermione and Harry, spoke abruptly. "Does it make you happy? Does…he…make you happy?"

Harry blinked. "Yes. I mean, I know that it can't really mean anything to him and that he's only doing it because he thinks that it'll take my mind off the war and give me a better chance of winning, but he makes me feel…" Harry shrugged. "Like I can just be me. He doesn't expect anything, or require anything of me. He just…I don't know. He does make me happy."

Ron nodded. "Okay. If he makes you happy, okay. Just, please, no real snoggage in front of me? I think it'd kill me."

Harry laughed. "Check, no major snoggage in front of Ron." His face turned serious. "Thank you, both of you."

Hermione shrugged. "We're your friends, Harry. It's what we do." Ron nodded in agreement.

Harry smiled. "That doesn't mean I'm not grateful." He yawned suddenly, surprised by the quick onset of tiredness.

"I think that may be our cue to go to bed," Hermione observed, a small smile on her face. Ron laughed, and Harry grinned sheepishly. As the trio headed out into the halls, Ron cleared his throat.

"Harry, mate, there's something I want to ask you, and I want an honest answer."

"Yes?"

"Is his nose a turn-on?"

"Ron!"

"Well, it's just that I was thinking if the saying about guys' feet also applied to noses, then Snape would be–"

"_Ron_!" Harry's mortified voice carried through the halls, followed by the sound of Hermione's hand hitting the back of Ron's head, a small yelp of pain and her scolding that faded as the trio made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Meanwhile, Severus was standing outside of the door to Dumbledore's office, hestitating. He had found that, upon returning to his rooms, he had not been able to read nor sleep. While he had made Harry believe that he did not car what other people thought of him in regards to them that was not entirely true. He was currently standing outside the office of the man who's opinion had, for many years, been the only one he'd cared about. He was terrified.

Snape shook his head. Procrastinating would serve no purpose, and the man deserved more than finding out the next day along with the rest of the Hogwarts population.

Just as Severus was raising his hand to knock on the door, it slid open. Eyes behind half-moon glasses twinkled at him.

"Come along in, Severus."


End file.
